


Believe in Me, Believe in You

by HerMyKnee



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trans, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, M/M, Sexual Content, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Tendo Choi, Yancy Becket Lives, trans mako mori, trans raleigh becket
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerMyKnee/pseuds/HerMyKnee
Summary: The Becket brothers stood on the threshold of the Jaeger bay’s door, standing in slack-jawed unison. There she was, their beautiful Jaeger. Everything they had worked so hard to get to. She stood there, waiting for them.Techs were busy milling around like bees in a beehive. Yancy couldn’t believe how busy it was. They probably would have stood there for ages, just staring, but Marshal Pentecost came and jolted them out of their reverie.“Good afternoon, boys,” he said. “Follow me.”----Yancy/Tendo, Raleigh/Mako. Pining Chuck. Starts a little before the film. Canon-Adjacent. Yancy lives. Everyone's trans, nobody's cis. The Trans Pacific Rim AU that no one asked for, but we all deserve.





	1. A Big, Big Day

“Hey, Tendo,” Yancy called out from where he stood on the opposite side of the bed. “You ready for a piece of this ass?” He turned, proudly displaying it, stripping his flightsuit and undershirt as he went.

“Been ready all day, Becket Boy,” Tendo said back. “Thought you’d never ask.” He yanked his bow tie off, giving a frustrated groan when he saw Yancy already lying in bed, naked save for the boxer briefs straining at his half-hard cock.

Tendo Choi was a man of style, but even he had to admit that Yancy’s flightsuit conveniently had fewer layers between him and the bed. Of course, Tendo never had the ass for a flightsuit. So he stuck with the bow ties.

Which led to his current source of frustration.

Yancy propped himself up in bed, gesturing to Tendo. “Let me do that,” he said with a pitying look.

Flopping down next to him, Tendo allowed Yancy to take his suspenders and pull him into a deep kiss before slipping the bowtie from the collar of Tendo’s shirt with practiced fingers.

“Watch the hair,” Tendo whined, unwilling to have some Jaeger jockey ruin his perfect coif.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yancy teased, the bow tie now lying on the floor. He slid a hand up Tendo’s chest, relishing the hesitant breath he caused, leaving the other hand free to cup his neck. When Yancy reached his shoulders, he slid a thumb under the suspenders, giving a teasing snap before sliding them off.

Each piece of Tendo’s carefully constructed outfit was just as carefully deconstructed by Yancy; and he loved that about Yancy - his ability to take him apart and put him back together again.

Tendo turned away from him and awkwardly shucked his pants off. Yancy was pillowing his head on his elbow, and the hungry look in his eyes made Tendo shiver. How many times have we done this now? And he can still make me feel this way?

He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. 

Giving a sigh, he laid back down across from Yancy, grabbing him by his hips and drawing him in.

Yancy was gazing at him with such earnest admiration that Tendo found it almost unbearable; he blushed and looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Instead of wearing their hearts on their sleeves, the Becket brothers expressed everything in their thousand-watt smiles -- like the one Yancy currently flashed him. It was one of the things that had initially attracted Tendo to Yancy. That, and their mutual love of coffee.

And now they were here.

Yancy turned and ran his hands slowly up Tendo’s chest, savouring its contour, the flex of his muscles. When he reached Tendo’s neck, he pulled him on top and in for another deep kiss. His hands continued their wayward travelling, rubbing steadily across his shoulders - slowly, ever so slowly.

Tendo rested his head on Yancy’s collarbone, which had grown noticeably more muscular since they had first started doing this.

Yancy took the opportunity to squeeze his lover tightly. During moments like this, he felt they could never get close enough. He guessed this might be what drifting felt like.

“Mm,” said Tendo, breathing in the scent of his partner. “Do you know how handsome you are?”

“Yes,” boasted Yancy. “But do you?”

Tendo blushed, again, feeling as if his cheeks would never return to their usual color. Damn Yancy Becket.

Yancy had known Tendo long enough to know that insecurity ran deep in Tendo’s veins, despite the retro clothes and over-the-top hair, which he personally found completely eccentric. Honestly, Yancy once saw him spend ten minutes draping the rosary _just so_ around his wrist until he was satisfied, crying out “Perfect!” when he was done. The only reason Yancy ever used his wrist for ten minutes in the morning was for his own self-pleasure. Aside from the occasional morning wank session, he could go from completely horizontal to out the door in five minutes – a fact he was quite proud of. His mind, however, usually took longer to catch up.

Speaking of which, he really needed to get his head out of the clouds and back into Tendo’s pants, where it currently belonged.

Apparently Tendo felt the same way, because he groaned in exasperation, “Can you just fuck me already?”

Yancy wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was positively embarrassing, but Tendo was loathe to criticize the person who would soon be eating him out.

Flipping them over so that he was now on top, Yancy slid down Tendo’s body, trailing his tongue intermittently as he went.

_I’d love to take your shirt off..._

In an unspoken arrangement, they left Tendo’s shirt on, knowing it made him feel the most comfortable. Never mind the fact that he had killer abs and the most wonderful, softest happy trail Yancy had ever seen.

So instead he skirted around it, complimenting Tendo whenever he got the chance. 

Having reached his knees, Yancy reversed his direction and slid back up Tendo’s legs, trailing sensitive kisses on his bare skin along the way. He paid special attention to the inside of Tendo’s thighs, a spot he knew from experience was sure to delight.

And, soon enough, Tendo gave a shudder. “Ahh,” he said, unable to refrain from crying out.

“You like that?” Yancy asked with an impish grin.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

Having made his way up Tendo’s legs, Tendo was slightly unsure what Yancy would do next. There was no hesitation on Yancy’s part, however, as he confidently locked his lips around Tendo’s clit and created a sucking sensation that had Tendo moaning and arching his back in no time.

“Fuck, Yance,” he said, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

Yancy felt legs squeezing his ears, and, encouraged by the obvious pleasure-driven reaction, trailed a bit lower, and darted his tongue in and out, in and out, all while keeping a firm grip on Tendo’s hips.

Soon enough, Yancy had him shouting, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” and arching his back and grabbing Yancy’s head all at once. “Oh, Yancy, don’t stop don’t stop don’t fucking stop.”

Yancy sped up his pace, kissing Tendo’s clit while sliding two fingers inside and crooking them. He enjoyed the taste of his partner and the beautiful sounds he coaxed out of him. But he had a feeling Tendo loved it even more.

Letting Tendo recover on his own for a second, Yancy stripped his own boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.

“Damn,” said Tendo appreciatively. “That is a big, big cock.”

“A what?” Yancy asked, looking with exasperation at the ceiling. He rolled on a condom, but Tendo’s dirty talk was so bad that, honestly, half the time it made him just want to put his pants back on.

“A big, big cock,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“A big, big cock?”

“A big, big cock,” he nodded.

“Well … now that we’ve got that out of the way, can I put my big, big cock inside you?”

“I would big, big love that,” he said to Yancy with a mock-serious look on his face, spreading his legs eagerly.

Yancy grabbed him by the hips and rammed his dick halfway in in one large thrust. He gave a groan of pleasure. “Tendo-”

“Present,”

“Will you please shut the fuck up?”

Tendo pulled him down into another kiss while Yancy slowly pistoned himself to his hilt, their moans blending into each other. The thrusting kept dragging over the skin of Tendo’s clit, quickly leading him to the edge of another climax. He reached down to finger himself, bringing himself completely over the edge.

Yancy, bless him, kept going, dragging out Tendo’s pleasure. Comparatively, it took him much longer to come, but he was by no means a selfish lover. Sometimes Tendo felt bad that he could come two or three times to Yancy’s one. But then he remembered all the periods and cramps he had while growing up, and he felt a little less guilty about having more orgasms than his partner.

And then Yancy was jerking erratically, his thrusts become irregular and less frequent. He cried out in pleasure, hooking his arms around Tendo’s back to draw him in even closer.

 

“Mmm,” Yancy hummed afterwards. He had rolled away from Tendo, stretched, and cleaned up while Tendo took a piss. They had come back to bed and now lay face to face, Tendo carding his hand through Yancy’s hair. “My big, beautiful man.” He planted a soft kiss on him, in post-coital bliss.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

Yancy grimaced. “No.”

“It’ll be a big, big day,” he said, cheekily.

Yancy stared in exasperation at the ceiling. “No,” he repeated, emphatically. “Not ready.”

Tendo scoffed. “You’re gonna do great. You and Raleigh have one of the highest potential drift compatibilities the PPDC has ever seen. Besides, I’ll be there the whole time. No way Mr. Tendo Choi would let you fail.”

“True,” Yancy conceded, staring up at the ceiling.

He was reminded of the first time Tendo had said that to him, back when he had been brand new at the Icebox. It was one of the first times he had met anyone besides other potential rangers.


	2. Rum and Coke

In a rare moment of down time, Yancy had passed the Marshal and Tendo walking side by side. He straightened and saluted them.

“Good morning, Becket,” Pentecost said, hesitating briefly to find the name typed in block letters on Yancy’s shirt. “I trust that your training is going nicely.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered. In fact, his training was so grueling that he felt like he spent his time either sleeping or asleep on his feet. A fact he'd never admit to the Marshal however. Or the Elvis look-alike standing next to him.

“Good. Keep up the good work. We need as many soldiers as we can get to fight these kaiju.” Pentecost left, but Elvis doubled back, muttering something about wanting to get to know the candidates on a more personal level. Especially before any decisions were made about them.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “You, uh, wanna get some dinner?” he asked Yancy, bright eyes all hopeful.

“God, yes.” Somehow he'd forgotten about food. He added that to his mental list of activities - he was either sleeping, asleep on his feet, or eating. He could never get enough food or sleep.

 

Yancy had assumed that Tendo would receive better rations, and had fully prepared himself to be jealous. But after sitting together at a remote table in the cafeteria, he was surprised to see that they had the exact same rations. He decided not to say anything about it.

“So what did you want to talk about, Mr. Choi?” Yancy asked around a mouthful of food.

Tendo stiffened. “Dude, just call me ‘Tendo.’”

“Got it.”

An awkward silence ensued, after which Tendo cleared his throat. “Didn’t wanna talk about anything in particular. Just chat. Where you from?”

“Anchorage.”

“Oh, local boy. Cool. I could never live here. Winters are terrible.”

Yancy shrugged. “You get used to it.” Especially when you had nothing else to compare it to. “You ever drift before?” He asked Tendo, changing the topic. He really didn't have that much to say about Anchorage weather, nor did he want to. 

Tendo blinked a few times. “Um, no,” he answered, surprised by the candor. “Not drift compatible.” He had no idea if he was drift compatible or not, but he had never bothered with the testing. It wasn't like he was about to hop in a Jaeger, after all, so he didn't see the point in it. Just a waste of resources.

“Oh. Sorry.”

After another awkward pause, Yancy blurted out, “So what exactly is it that you do around here?”

Tendo gave a short laugh that gave Yancy the feeling of having a firecracker stuck in his chest. “That, Mr. Beckett, is a very good question.” He said this while wielding his fork like a baton, twirled it around to stick his food in his mouth, and continued, “I’m sort of Marshal’s second-in-command, but really unofficially. I do whatever he says. I’m also in charge of all the Jaeger tech.”

“Seriously? That’s so cool.” Yancy had never been very good with his hands, and he had always been envious of those who were.

Tendo blushed. “Yeah, seriously. Four years of undergrad, three years for my master’s, and two years of trade school. I better be able to program a fucking Jaeger after all that.”

Yancy was suitably impressed. “I was into economics. I was gonna go to business school, before this,” he gestured vaguely, indicating the Shatterdome, the Kaiju, the world.

“I was never very good at balancing a budget,” Tendo said with a smile. “Spent it all on hair gel.”

Yancy laughed harder than was necessary, but it just felt so good to relax and blow off some steam, however short-lived. Everyone here was so serious all the time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard someone tell him a joke, even if it was self-deprecating and sarcastic.

“I guess we’d make quite the pair then,” Yancy said. “You with your technical prowess and me with my check balancing." He paused, reflecting. "Somehow one of those skills seems cooler than the other.”

“What? No way. You get to work with those checks with the cool pictures on them. Like, my mom used to have a check with our family’s car on it - she was really into cars.”

Yancy snorted. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He grinned at the thought of Tendo and his mom's car, and then he realized that he hadn't stopped grinning once while talking to Tendo Choi. Emboldened by the sudden comfort, he took a leap of faith and confessed to Tendo, who, at this point was only slightly less than a complete stranger, and said, "I'm actually kind of nervous about all of this."

“Why?” Tendo asked. Not in a judgmental way, in a way that showed curiosity and earnestness. All the other cadets seemed so excited when he saw them. He hadn't sensed much nervousness among them. But then again, Tendo mostly knew them superficially, and only in the company of the Marshal.

“What if it doesn’t work? There’s so many people here. I’m kind of scared that Raleigh and I will just get overlooked or chewed up or something.”

“Who’s Raleigh?”

“My kid brother-”

“Ah, so there’s two of you-”

“- who’s a giant pain in my ass. He dragged us both here, but, honestly, it kind of sucks. I’m either sleepy or hungry or horny all the time, and I haven’t gotten a good lay in months because there's hardly any gay guys here.” He blushed, realizing that he had said too much. After he'd started talking, it was really hard to stop. Just like laughing at Tendo's joke, he got caught up in how good it felt to be vulnerable with someone for once. He made eye contact with Tendo, expecting a look of reproach.

"Well," Tendo answered, “lucky for you, you’ve got a higher up looking out for you. You’re not gonna get overlooked.”

Yancy scrunched his face up in confusion. “Seriously? Who?”

“Me, you goof.” After the crease in Yancy's forehead ceased to fade, Tendo added: “Aw, come on, Becket boy, no way Mr. Tendo Choi would let you fail.”

\----

 

_Death. I am Death. There is no way human beings can survive like this._

Yancy yawned as he cooked eggs in their kitchen, stretching the soreness out of his admittedly larger muscles. The workouts were grueling and rigorous, but he had slowly grown accustomed to them.

What he would never get used to, however, was waking up at 5 am. 

He nudged his eggs with a spatula. 

To put it simply, Yancy was amazed that he and Raleigh were still here. He wasn’t sure what his expectations were, but they certainly didn’t include making it past the first two cuts of ranger training and standing in his grey boxer briefs, making scrambled eggs.

A lot of their friends hadn’t made the cut. 

Yancy could get used to his kitchen and private bedroom. 

 

He left his quarters, shrugging on his jacket as he went. The jacket only made it halfway on before Yancy paused in shock: there, standing outside his room, two coffees in hand, was Tendo Choi.

He wondered how long Tendo had been standing there. Better yet, how had Tendo known to stand _there?_ They had eaten dinner together in the mess hall last night, but Yancy couldn’t recall telling Tendo his room number. Oh well. It was probably simple for a LOCCENT officer to find.

“Hello, Becket senior,” Tendo said by way of greeting. 

_Who’s that fucking chipper in the morning?_

Yancy nodded and took the coffee cup. “‘Morning.”

They walked together to the mess in silence, Tendo quickly catching on to the fact that Yancy was not a morning person. He took pity on the man and spared any conversation he would have normally engaged in.

Yancy really wanted to grab Tendo’s hand. But he didn’t. Instead, the combination of sleep-deprivation and caffeine caused him to blurt out: “Hey, do you wanna come over tonight?”

Tendo paused. And he blinked. But then he said, “Yeah,” and gave a cocky smile. 

_Damn that smile._

\---

“Sweet digs,” Tendo said appreciatively when he met up with Yancy later that evening. He glanced around the place, taking in the details. 

It was neat -- neither brother had enough time or possessions to dirty a room. But it was definitely lived in. The strewn shoes, the dish in the sink, the coffee stain on the table. 

Tendo traced a finger slowly around the coffee stain. “Where’s Becket junior?”

“Oh, Raleigh’s out doing an extra practice session in the simulator.” It wasn’t strictly a lie - he had encouraged Raleigh to go practice. The fact that Yancy now got the room to himself was just an added bonus. Not really knowing what to do next, but feeling he needed something to say, he asked "Do you - do you want a drink?" _Please, anything to make this less awkward than it currently is._ He had no idea having someone scrutinize his living space would feel quite so intrusive.

“Sure,” Tendo said. “Tequila, if you’ve got it.”

“Coming right up.”

Tendo watched Yancy cross the distance into the kitchen easily, taking pleasure at the sight of Yancy's ass. He was slightly impressed when he saw Yancy retrieving cups and ice cubs - Tendo usually just drank straight from the bottle. But when he looked up, he was more distracted by the photos plastered across the cupboards above Yancy's head. Who was sentimental enough to drag around photos on a military base?

Yancy putzed around, Tendo’s silence unnerving him. That, and the fact that he was boring a hole into his shoulder. A glance behind him told him why.

“Oh, those,” he said, drying his hands on a towel and draping it over his shoulder. “Yeah, my kid brother drags those photos around everywhere. Such a sap. We were military brats before PPDC so we grew up on lots of different bases. Pictures were pretty much the best option when you had to move all the time, you know?”

Tendo nodded. He did know - Hong Kong, San Francisco, his stint at school in Seattle, and now here, in Anchorage - he’d had his fair share of travel.

He took one of the drinks that Yancy offered and immediately pulled a face. “This isn’t tequila,” he said.

“Nope, it sure ain’t,” said Yancy, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin Tendo had ever seen in his life. 

“You don't have any tequila here at all, right?”

“Nope.” The smile disappeared behind Yancy’s glass while he took a sip -- _It was a rum and Coke, that bastard_ \-- but it was still obvious in his eyes.

Tendo stepped closer to examine the photos. He cleared his throat. “So, I guess you were a tow-head, huh?” Yancy was immediately recognizable, even as a little kid. His eyes and nose had barely changed.

“Mmhmm,” he said. “My brother too. Mum was always grateful for it, said it made us easy to find in a crowd.”

Tendo thought it looked like a happy family - he saw what looked like their mother, eyes crinkling for a smile; their dad, with a bristly, brown moustache; and, of course, Yancy himself. Some other figure was unrecognizable, maybe a cousin or family friend. Raleigh himself seemed to be missing, but maybe he was the one taking the photos. 

While Yancy was slightly absorbed in his nostalgia, Tendo couldn’t help but sense the intimacy. He took a step closer, praying to God that he was reading the situation right, purposefully brushing his shoulder up against Yancy’s. He thought about reaching up and kissing him, wondered what the rum and Coke would taste like from those pink lips. Wondered how that hair would feel, carded through his fingers. Wondered if Yancy had soft or calloused hands. He’d been wondering a lot that day, ever since Yancy had first invited him over.

Was Yancy shifting closer, or was he just imagining that? Was he going to kiss him?

_Shit, fuck, he’s leaning in, isn’t he? Shut up, Tendo, just go with it. Wait, what the fuck do I do with my hands?_

In a bold move that he instantly regretted, he wet his lips and sort of mashed them into Yancy’s, all rough and unbridled energy.

But then Yancy was grabbing Tendo’s waist, and no, he definitely wasn’t over-thinking that, Yancy was pulling him closer. 

Their kiss deepened, but also tamed itself. No longer a fit of audacity, but an even match between the two.

They pulled apart, staring at each other, breathing deeply, the tension so thick it was almost palpable.

And then Yancy was taking their drinks and setting them on the table and pulling Tendo towards the couch and then they were sitting next to each other, the space between them a little awkward. 

But then Yancy reached over, and Tendo’s soft sound of surprise was muffled by Yancy’s lips upon his. And then Yancy was cupping his neck, and, fuck, if that wasn’t one of the sweetest things ever. He sighed and allowed himself to melt into Yancy’s touch.

It turned out Yancy had soft hands.

 

Soon enough Yancy was on top of him, and Tendo lay beneath, a thrill of excitement running through him. He paused a moment, sliding his hands up and around Yancy's torso, exploring the sturdy feel of his muscles, trailing his fingers, feather light, against the edge of those well-defined abs, hesitant, revelling in the golden hairs beneath his navel.

Yancy decided he’d had enough of that, gave a hoarse sort of growl, and bent over to bury his face in Tendo’s neck, kissing him roughly enough that he was sure to leave hickies. 

Tendo groaned and felt himself go limp in Yancy's arms. He pulled him closer, deeper, and gave a thrust in spite of himself, giving into his most basest instincts. 

Yancy's hard-on was extremely noticeable. Tendo blushed. He worried that Yancy would notice the distinct lack of package in his own pants.

His thrusts slowed.

“You ok?” Yancy checked in, his voice full of concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tendo said and rubbed a hand down his face. “Just tired.”

“Ha.” He paused, sitting up and glancing at the clock. It was very late - or very early by generous standards. He yawned and stretched, rising from the couch. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I gotta take a leak, ok?”

Tendo nodded. He picked himself up and straightened his clothes. There was such a finality to his actions that he felt slightly mournful about it. But he knew this was the right thing to do.

Bending down near the couch, Tendo saw a piece of garbage. He grabbed it, curiosity forcing him to wonder what could possibly dirty the Beckets' near-impeccable living quarters. Or maybe it was his and had fallen from a pocket.

It did not belong to him. But he sort of wished it did.

It was a small box, with a clinical-looking label on it.

_Becket, Raleigh. Depo-testosterone. Inject 1ml every two weeks._

Yancy’s footsteps signaled his return, and before Tendo could fully process this discovery, he rushed to return the crushed box back to its spot under the couch.

“Well, I should probably get going,” he said, his voice much higher than usual. He wiped his hands on his pants, brushing off dirt that didn’t exist. “Thanks for the drink,” he said. Yancy went in for a hug, but Tendo resolutely ignored that and gave a half-hearted salute with shaky hands before walking out the door.

He didn’t look over his shoulder.


	3. Lady Danger Herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beckets finally get to meet _Lady Danger_.

“T shot gone wrong?” Yancy asked his younger brother who was walking up to him. They didn’t need to be Drift compatible for him to notice the limp on his left side.

“Yeah,” Raleigh grumbled back, trying to massage the pain from his leg. “Really screwed this one up this time. Not sure how though.” He sounded thoughtful.

Yancy shrugged, biting his fingernail. “Ready to suit up, kiddo?” He clapped Raleigh on the shoulder. They continued walking down the hallway, Raleigh’s limp more noticeable now that they were in-step with each other.

Despite the complexities of the Jaeger bay, Raleigh walked confidently and Yancy knew to follow him. His kid brother had been so excited and anxious that the night before, unable to sleep, he had gone and staked the path from their living quarters to Lady Danger. It had taken Raleigh a while – the distance was surprisingly long, considering they were supposed to suit up quickly in the case of a Kaiju – and it had caused him to double back and start over after reaching a few dead ends. He got there in the end, though.

The Becket brothers stood on the threshold of the Jaeger bay’s door, standing in slack-jawed unison. There she was, their beautiful Jaeger. Everything they had worked so hard to get to. She stood there, waiting for them.

Techs were busy milling around like bees in a beehive. Yancy couldn’t believe how busy it was. They probably would have stood there for ages, just staring, but Marshal Pentecost came and jolted them out of their reverie.

“Good afternoon, boys,” he said. “Follow me.”

The Marshal led them to a pair of rooms, side by side, and started lecturing them about drivesuits and Jaeger tech. The shiny sparks of the welders’ working was distracting.

When Pentecost finished his lecture, each Becket took one room – Raleigh the left, Yancy the right. With a nod, they each stepped forward.

“See you on the other side, kiddo.”

The room was cold and clinical looking, and after Yancy had stripped down to just his boxer briefs, he stood there, shivering. Shortly afterwards a woman came in with a clipboard and gave him an uncomfortably thorough physical examination before deeming him fit for drifting.

A short man in a military-grade cap entered afterwards. “Ranger Becket,” he said, “please put this on.” He held out a shapely black garment that resembled a garbage bag – if garbage bags costed a million dollars.

It was his exo-suit, which he recognized from videos of other pilots and diagrams he had seen in the Academy. When the man left, Yancy snuck a peek through the door and saw another room, this one much more mechanical and, again, filled with workers. He had to wonder just how many people it took to run a Jaeger. _Probably a lot._

With shaking fingers, Yancy stepped into the exo-suit. His toe caught on the edge, and it took him multiple tries to don it. But once it was on, it formed to fit his body perfectly. He took a moment to appreciate it – it was beautiful and sleek. Everything about it was impressive. Large, padded areas covered swathes of skin on his shoulders, chest, thighs, calves – it provided a layer of padding between his skin and the drivesuit, but also connected him to the neural relay of Lady Danger.

_Lady Danger. Their first drift in their very own Jaeger._

It was hard not to feel like everything had led up to this point. Sure, each brother had been deemed highly drift compatible with the other, but this was the real deal now. The training, the grueling workouts, the chess games – all of it would be for nothing if this didn’t work. Of course, it should work. Everything pointed to it working.

The thought of his unfinished economics degree briefly flitted across his mind.

But with a deep breath, he left all thoughts behind and shouldered the door open. To his left, Raleigh stood, looking at him, every cell in his body radiating nervous energy. He only swallowed and looked back at his older brother.

The brothers would later come to realize that this was the “Suiting Up Room,” aptly named by someone who did not have Tendo Choi’s creative naming genius. Workers flew about them, and Yancy grew dizzy trying to keep track.

One approached him from the front, clipping a hunk of metal to his front while another Jaeger technician did the same to his back. He sagged immediately under the weight. _What were these things made of?_

He was more than apprehensive about the metal spine that was to be integrated into his suit: it was spindly and delicate looking, but resembled a spider too much for Yancy’s liking. He tried not to think about it being attached to his back.

A helmet was pushed into his hands and he donned it, unthinkingly. He clipped into shoes afterwards.

_How the fuck are we supposed to walk in these things, let alone fight a kaiju?_

Raleigh flashed him a nervous smile, and it immediately reminded Yancy of the same look he had worn at their mother’s funeral – all trepidation and worry.

_Wait. Don’t think about that. Don’t bring that into the drift._

The excitement in Raleigh’s eyes helped ground Yancy in the present. This wasn’t their mother’s funeral, and thinking about that would only lead to disaster.

They were led down a metal walkway, and it was really hard to not feel like an astronaut.

They stepped into Lady’s head, Yancy first, and her lights were illuminated around them, displaying their telemetry on the HUD. He clipped in to the right side and flicked on the intercom.

“All ready, Becket boys?” Tendo’s familiar voice rang loud and clear. “It’s gonna be a big, big day, after all.”

Yancy gave a quick snort and then went back to avoiding thinking about the night before - and really, he could only think of things that he _didn’t_ want to share with his brother at the moment.

Realizing Tendo wouldn’t be able to see his nod, Raleigh said, “Yeah.” A disapproving look from Yancy had him correcting himself, amending, “Yessir.”

“Now, Rangers,” the Marshal commented after both boys confirmed their readiness. “This is just a preliminary trial run. Not a simulation, but nothing to be nervous about either. Understood?”

“Yessir,” they said, no prodding look needed.

“Neural handshake establishing in three...two...one.”

Yancy glanced over to his left, at Raleigh, and suddenly….suddenly was looking back at himself. With those baleful eyes. With admiration, respect, jealousy, even. Heart swelling with emotion. And only then did he realize how much Raleigh looked up to him.

Then Yancy looked down at himself - er, at Raleigh. Or was it himself? He couldn’t tell any more. He looked down at somebody’s leg, and suddenly felt a year’s worth of T shots all at once. Ouch. He could feel himself physically transitioning as the hormones did their work. And suddenly the swelling in his heart plummeted down into his stomach. He never knew a heart could feel so heavy.

Yancy felt all the flinches Raleigh held back when he had messed up his brother’s new name, at first. All the times he had slipped up and misgendered him. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal. He hadn’t known.

_Oh._

_Shit._

_He hadn’t known._

The tears Raleigh held back after Yancy had told him he was getting angry over nothing. The anxiety-inducing pounding in his chest when he had to use a public bathroom. The relief he felt when he started passing to others. The awkward humor when he came out to a friend who wouldn’t stop making dick jokes, assuming they had common knowledge in that regard.

“Neural connection strong and holding.”

Tendo’s voice was a welcome and grounding presence for Yancy - it brought himself a little more into his body and a little less into Raleigh’s. He could feel his himself, and he knew where his legs should be, but when he looked down, it didn’t really seem like his body. It seemed like back in the old days, when 3-D movies were made with those dorky red and blue glasses and your brain had to meld those shitty images together - that’s what it felt like.

But add on to that an itch that he just couldn’t scratch, because it wasn’t on his head or his skin, it was _inside him_. It was _on his brain._

That shitty 3-D image was his first neural handshake outside of a simulator.

And, just as Yancy felt he was starting to understand how to orient himself, how to see life through these glasses while he was Raleigh, while he was himself, while he was trans and cis and young and old and scrawny and muscular … the Marshall said it was time to disengage.

“That’s enough for today, Rangers. Good work. Disengage the handshake, Mr. Choi.”

Yancy was brought back into his own mind and body with a finality he had not been expecting, as if someone had turned off a radio mid-song. He was hyper aware of every muscle in his body, the racing of his heart, the beads of sweat running down his back. With a sigh of relief, Yancy disconnected his spinal clamp from Gipsy’s neural relay.

He felt small and claustrophobic in his own body - he longed to widen the walls that were suddenly closing in on him, wanted to stretch out into his proper 250 foot size. Who allowed a human body to feel this way? He looked down and patted his legs, and, yes, they were both still there, and, yes, they were his regular size 36”, and, yes, he was back to being just Yancy Becket.

But with the addition of one brother in his mind.

One pain-in-the-ass, gets-up-too-early, has-way-too-much-fucking-energy, golden-retriever, apple-juice-hating, anxiety-ridden brother.

It was a weird new way of looking at the world. He stumbled a little, still unsure of where his body stopped and where Gipsy Danger had started. He would’ve teased Raleigh for looking like a newborn giraffe if he hadn’t been doing the exact same thing.

And since when had Yancy ever hesitated to tease Raleigh? Holding back a joke at the other’s expense was not something either of them was familiar with. But he bit his tongue, feeling properly ashamed for the first time in his life. Raleigh had looked up to him so much and for so long. He was acutely aware of both the reverence his younger brother had shown to him and how utterly undeserving of it he was, especially when it was tinged with the pain he had caused.

_He hadn’t known what it was like being trans_. Of course he didn’t, what cis person would know what that felt like? But now … now it was as close as he would ever come to understanding.

And now? Now Yancy was angry. Angry at how long it had taken to legally change Raleigh’s name, angry at how long the insurance process for top surgery was, angry at Raleigh’s anxiety and the ignorance he had faced. But mostly he was angry at himself.

He couldn’t tell if the anger was his own or his brother’s. Huh.

 

Yancy exited the Conn-Pod, stripped his flight suit, and emerged in his LOCCENT green coveralls. He wiped the sweat-plastered hair from his forehead. Raleigh wouldn’t look him in the eye.

He needed to talk about this, though. While it was still fresh in his mind. And especially while they both had some relative privacy in this godforsaken Shatterdome.

“Raleigh,” he said, clapping a hand to his brother’s shoulder. He was a little rougher than he had intended to be.

Raleigh gave him a questioning look. _Yes?_

“I … I get it,” Yancy said lamely.

“Get what?”

“I get...it. I get everything. About - about your trans stuff.” He gave Raleigh a hasty glance up and down, his eyes darting around in a way that Raleigh found disconcerting. The hand squeezing his shoulder hurt. “I’m….I’m...geez, Rals, I’m an idiot.” Yancy ran a hand through his hair in desperation. “I’m so sorry. I...I didn’t know.”

And then, completely overridden with guilt, Yancy threw his arms around Raleigh’s neck, all but fell on top of the hand that was currently pinning his younger brother to the wall, collapsing onto him with repentant tears.

Raleigh kept his gaze staring resolutely straight ahead. He had known this was coming. Known it was coming since he and his brother had first joined PPDC. It still didn’t prepare him for the sight of a crying older brother clinging onto the collar of his jumpsuit. He clenched his jaw and shifted so he could better wrap his arms around Yancy.

Sure, it sort of felt good to be understood. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? Weren’t misunderstandings the main source of all conflicts?

And yet, his brother’s tears did him no good. It didn’t make up for all the times Yancy had misgendered him, even accidentally. It didn’t make up for all the tears Raleigh had cried when his body hadn’t matched up or looked how he wanted. It didn’t make up for the obnoxious clerks at the courthouse who couldn’t tell the difference between a name change certificate and a marriage certificate - an error that almost led to a disastrous and accidental marriage.

It didn’t make up for it, but it was a start.

Clenching Yancy tightly to his chest, Raleigh allowed his mind to wander down the empty hallways, following the echoes of his brother’s cries.


	4. Max is a Fighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh Max is a cat here because this chapter was based on IRL events that happened to me and my cat and it was actually the first chapter for this fic that I wrote and it was mostly intended to be therapeutic for myself but maybe you'll enjoy some feels or smth.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Chuck roared. “Get off of him!”

Puzzled, Raleigh followed the sound of Chuck’s voice and found himself in the Hansens’ family quarters. He pursed his lips, trying to decide whether or not to intrude their personal space. A quiet, distraught sob had him moving quick, all thoughts of privacy forgotten. 

“Oh, Max,” Chuck whispered. 

A sandy-colored dog ran out of the room with its tail between its legs, leaving Raleigh feeling even more curious.

A crime scene stood before him.

Seriously. It looked like the cold-opening to a particularly gruesome cop show: a bed was shoved away from the wall, its mattress and sheets torn to shreds; cat food littered the floor. It stank of piss and shit, and there was blood spattered across the wall.

But, perhaps most unbelievably, Chuck Hansen sat, cowed in a corner, clutching his cat to his chest and whimpering. “Oh, Max,” he repeated.

“What - what happened in here?”

“I don’t know!” Chuck screamed back at Raleigh, growing hysterical. “That - that stupid dog ran in here and attacked Max!”

Raleigh glanced down, and he had to admit, Max was in pretty bad shape. He was shaking, and his entire underside was matted and dark brown. Raleigh couldn’t tell if it was blood, mud, or something else. Is that where the pee smell was coming from?

Max looked up and slowly blinked his eyes at Raleigh. Now that he was safe with Chuck, he appeared completely unbothered. 

“Well, let’s get him to medical.”

“Ok,” Chuck said, wiping his snotty nose on the back of his hand. Much to Raleigh’s surprise, Chuck didn’t shrug off the arm Raleigh put around his shoulders, and he even let himself be led out of the family quarters. Who was this, and what had they done to his stubborn and self-assured Chuck?

 

Strictly speaking, the medical bay was only for humans. But also strictly speaking, nobody much cared if a doctor applied their medical skill to a cat in the midst of an apocalyptic war raged against giant alien beasts. 

Chuck was completely beside himself by the time they arrived, shaking, so Raleigh did all the talking and explained the situation to the doctor as best he could. 

“I see,” said Dr. Jillian. She sported green scrubs and jet black hair. “Well, let me take a look at him and give you an update.” She whisked Max away from the examination room.

Which left an inconsolable Chuck and a confused Raleigh. 

Chuck sat on one of the room’s two chairs and hugged his knees to his chest. He hid his face, and his cries wracked his shoulders. Raleigh couldn’t believe someone as big as Chuck could fold himself up and manage to look so small.

He reached out a trembling hand, tentatively seeking to pat Chuck on the back. Raleigh didn’t know Chuck had any emotions other than “total jackass” and “grumpy asshole.” To see him like this was almost disturbing. It made Raleigh sort of want to kick the dog that had done this. 

Not only was he displaying emotion, but after Raleigh put his hand on him, Chuck actually leaned into the touch. A minute amount, but still. For Chuck, that was a lot.

The doctor entered the room again, and Chuck shot out of his chair, wringing his hands, the perfect image of an anxious pet-owner. “How is he?”

“Do you know, is your cat part Siamese?”

“W-what? I don’t know,” he said, almost defensively. “Why?”

“Because it seems like there’s something wrong with his eyes. They seem to be shuddering. Which is not uncommon for Siamese cats, but would otherwise indicate something seriously wrong. He’s stable for now, but I suspect some permanent brain damage.”

Chuck squeaked and echoed, “Permanent brain damage?”

“Possibly, but we don’t know yet,” the doctor said and left.

Chuck gave a moan and started crying even harder than before. He turned away from Raleigh’s offered hand and started pacing as much as he could in the tiny space. 

“What am I gonna do, Raleigh?” Chuck’s breaths grew shorter and shorter. “It’s all my fault. What if he won’t be the same? What if he’s not the same Max as he was before? I should never have left him alone like this. Oh man...I’m a terrible pet owner.”

“It’s not your fault, Chuck,” said Raleigh in the most comforting voice he could manage. “Things like this happen.”

“You don’t get it,” he seethed. “Max is all I had. All I have. All that guy wanted was to love and be loved. Without him…well, shit, without him I’ve got nothing.”

_You’ve got me,_ Raleigh wanted to say. _And all of the Shatterdome too._ But before he could, Chuck added, “I didn’t know it was bad enough he could die. I didn’t know it was bad enough I could lose him.”

He fell into Raleigh’s chest, and Raleigh remarked that it was the second time that day that someone had cried on his shoulders. He didn’t know whether to feel good that people were comfortable enough to feel vulnerable around him, or if he should be mad at the universe for hurting the people he loved.

A nurse came in instead of the doctor this time. He was wearing matching green scrubs and Raleigh briefly wondered if they had planned it that way. It seemed like something the med staff in a Shatterdome would do.

“So this is the plan of action that Dr. Jillian recommends,” said the nurse. He had a sheet of paper with x-rays, IVs, and antibiotics to give the cat. 

Chuck was bleary-eyed and overwhelmed, so Raleigh took the paper, read it over, and nodded at Chuck. “Sounds good to me,” he said. He reached over and gave Chuck’s hand a squeeze. “Go ahead.”

“Can - can I see him?” Chuck blurted out as the nurse was leaving. “I wanna see him.”

The nurse thought for a moment, then said, not unkindly, “Yes, you’ll be able to see him.”

After she left, Chuck resumed his pacing. He opened the door and rolled his shoulders. Then he started clawing at his throat and taking shallow breaths.

“Raleigh, Raleigh, I need him, ok? I need that cat. I’m not me without that cat; you don’t get it; you don’t get it.” 

Raleigh nodded. He didn’t think Chuck could deal with anything more than that at the moment. He had never seen him wound so tight, not even before a kaiju fight.

“Ok, ok,” Raleigh finally said. He placed a hand on either of Chuck’s shoulders and faced him, eye to eye. “He’s gonna be ok, Chuck, I promise.”

After an interminably long time, the doctor re-entered the room, carrying Max - whose fur was now rumpled, albeit clean. 

“Max!” Chuck gasped and held his arms out to receive his pet. “Oh buddy, I’m so so sorry, I’ll never let anything like that happen to you ever again, I’m so so sorry.” He buried his face in Max’s soft fur. 

“Can you show us the eye thing that you were worried about?” Raleigh asked.

“Sure,” said Dr. Jillian. 

Chuck reluctantly set Max upon the table.

“So, it’s something like this,” she said. Pulling out a flashlight, she shined it in Max’s eye, saying, “His eye goes like this - it focuses, it focuses, it focuses, and there - his eye sort of drifts for a second.”

“Like a lazy eye?” guessed Raleigh.

“No, just sort of like he’s shaking his eyes.”

Chuck hadn’t said anything this entire time, just slowly raised an eyebrow ever higher. Granted, he wasn’t a vet, but Max’s eye movement looked completely normal to him. For a moment Chuck doubted himself, thinking that he was just hoping that was true and that Max was fine. For all he knew, Max could die overnight here.

“Seems pretty normal to me,” he said at last, and everyone in the room gave a collective sigh of relief. 

“Ok then,” said the doctor. “I’m going to go put him in the incubator to finish drying off, so he’s not freezing. Then I’ll do some x-rays and give you some meds.”

Chuck was just about to finish signing the paperwork she handed him, when she cut him off saying, “Oh no, that’s just for our overnight patients.”

“You mean you’re not keeping him overnight?” Chuck said with disbelief.

“No, not since the eye movement was normal. That’s just a breed thing, and it doesn’t point to any neurological damage or swelling of the brain. If I don’t see anything wrong with him, you’ll be good to go.”

“Well that went from Def-Con 4 to Def-Con 1 real quick,” Raleigh commented after the doctor left. He said it wrong, but on purpose. Growing up a military brat, there’s no way that Raleigh would have ever misused that. But Chuck knew that Raleigh knew that.

Instead of taking the easy bait, Chuck sniffled.

“He’s gonna be ok, Chuck,” Raleigh comforted.

Chuck shrugged.

Raleigh held his arms out, and, to his surprise, Chuck came over and allowed himself to be held. Hesitantly, Raleigh smoothed his hair and gave him a quick, tight squeeze around his chest. “It’ll be ok.”

“It’s my fault,” Chuck mumbled into Raleigh’s shoulder. 

“No, Chuck, it’s not. Accidents like that happen all the time.”

“I wanna see him.”

“I know you do. You’ll see him soon.”

They stood there, embracing each other for another five minutes, although it felt like hours, until the doctor returned with Max in her arms. 

The poor cat looked like he had seen better days. His fur was rumpled and halfway dry, there was a small cut on his arm, one of his claws was ripped off, (Raleigh suspected this was where the blood had come from), and his eyes blinked sleepily.

“We gave him a sedative,” Dr. Jillian explained. “And, uh, we brought one for you too,” she added, holding a white pill out in her hand for Chuck.

He wordlessly took it and swallowed it dry, reflexively giving his shoulders a shrug. He sat down with Max in his lap, loathe to let the cat out of his arms for even a second.

Five minutes later, the doctor had moved Chuck and Max to a proper bed in a new room, and Raleigh stood attendance at their bedside, stroking the cat’s matted fur.

“He looks silly,” Chuck slurred.

“He sure does,” Raleigh agreed. “Give him a couple days and he’ll clean himself up just fine. He’ll be back to his old self.”

“What if he hates me, though?” Chuck looked at Raleigh with the most earnest and worried expression he had ever seen on the younger man’s face. 

Raleigh was almost consumed with the urge to scoop him and the cat up and never let either of them out of his sight ever again. He had never known Chuck to be this...emotional. Nor had he ever met a seventeen-year old this attached to a cat. Anyone this upset about their pet had to be a sensitive guy, deep down, right? 

Granted, Raleigh had never had a pet growing up, so he couldn’t quite understand what was going through Chuck’s mind. Yancy had always said that they never needed a pet - Raleigh had more than enough golden lab in him to count. But it didn’t take a degree in psychology to know that the Hansens didn’t get along and that Chuck’s cat meant the world to both of them. Although he kinda wished he did have a degree. Maybe it would help him understand better.

Raleigh envisioned himself spending a lot of time puzzling out Chuck in the future.


	5. Tender Tendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yancy learns how to be a good ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but you get Yancy and Tendo's perspective :)

Raleigh hadn't noticed Yancy's absence, since he was preoccupied with Chuck in medical. Which worked out perfectly for Yancy - he was too distraught to bother talking to Raleigh and had gone to Tendo's room. He laid on his boyfriend's bed, staring blankly at the wall. He was so exhausted that he was unable to cry at the moment, despite the mountain of guilt he was feeling: he'd left all his sobs on his brother's shoulders.

“Well that went well, don’t you think?” Tendo asked while slipping off his shoes. 

“I didn’t know,” Yancy said, sounding miles away, draping an arm over his forehead. 

“Didn’t know what?” Tendo rested on his elbow, devoting his attention to Yancy, who sat up and ran a hand through his air, clearly agitated.

“Didn’t know everything. How bad his dysphoria was. How insecure he was. How jealous he was of me. How much he looked up to me. Why?” he asked defensively, with a vicious shrug. “Why would he look up to _me_? Especially after how I treated him. All those times I misgendered him? Fuck, Tendo, what else have I fucked up?”

“Woah, Yancy, hold up for a second here,” Tendo said, throwing his hands out to pacify his boyfriend. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a good brother, you know,” he tried reassuring him.

“When he got all angry, ‘cause Mom and Dad kept calling him ‘Jazmine,’ I told him he was being too angry! I told him to get over it!” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. 

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of a shitty thing to say,” Tendo admitted. “But you didn’t know. And now you do.”

“But what else have I gotten wrong? I don’t want to hurt him again.”

Tendo pursed his lips in thought. “You really wanna know?”

Yancy nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I really wanna know.”

Tendo stood up from the bed and crossed over to the mini-fridge he had snuck into his room, filled with contraband beers. He cracked one open and wordlessly passed the other to Yancy. He took a sip and swilled it back and forth in his mouth, before swallowing and saying, “Ok, well, you know how you asked me what my ‘preferred pronouns’ were when we were in bed together for the first time?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do that.”

“What? Why?” Yancy’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

“Well, I mean, to me, it’s sort of like saying, ‘Well, those are my preferred pronouns, but I’ll take any I can get. I prefer chocolate ice cream to vanilla, but it doesn’t really matter’ Get it?” he elaborated. “Because pronouns aren’t a preference, they’re mandatory.” He said this with a slight sulk, like it was a concept he had tried and failed at explaining before.

“Mm,” Yancy acknowledged, biting a thumbnail.

“Just ask, ‘What pronouns do you use?’” he said, cutting off Yancy's next question before he had a chance to voice it.

Tendo set his beer on the nightstand and stretched out, using his arms as a pillow. “Also,” he said, with a look at Yancy, “Not that you would know this, and not that you would ever have a reason to use this with Raleigh, but there are ... certain ... nuances that come with having sex with a trans person.”

“Like what?” 

“Like etiquette shit, man.”

Yancy laid back down, turning on his side to look Tendo directly in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“Ok, so like, some trans dudes don’t like talking about their vagina or clit or stuff. It makes them dysphoric. So it’s good etiquette to ask the person you’re about to have sex with which terminology they prefer.”

Yancy nodded, ever the perfect student when it came to caring for the people he loved. “Got it.” After a silence, “So do you, uh, have a name for little Tendo?” He wriggled his eyebrows in that especially awful way of his. “Maybe, uh, Tender Tendo?”

Tendo winced. _And Yancy thought he was bad at dirty talk?_ “God, Yance, no, just call it a fuckin’ ‘clit’ and ‘vagina’ and shit. Anything but ‘Tender Tendo.’”

Yancy turned back over to lay on his back, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. 

Tendo rummaged under his bed, pulling out a fifth of vodka. “Hey, Yancy,” he asked, holding up the bottle like a trophy. “You wanna get smashed?”


End file.
